sick. fairly sick.

I rarely get very sick. I usually get a flu shot. Of course, this year, I did not get a flu shot. I have already gotten, for me, VERY sick, twice this year. The second time being this week. Next year, I plan to get a flu shot. I will NOT get sick any more this season. Because being sick sucks.

One reason it sucks is that you have weird dreams, like that you're in a 'healthy feet' shoe store (this is the only type of shoe store I can shop in anymore, due to my f***ed-up feet--mothers, take your children to the foot doc when they're young) and there aren't any cute shoes except one pair you can't really wear because they're mules, black patent with flower shapes cut out, but the model shoe is all dusty, and then you hear a Georgian accent, and it's your mom's friend Meg, except then it's not, but it's another woman with blond hair from Georgia. And then you're on the wide porch of a white house with your little sister, and you're little, and sort of poking about in bushes and things just off the porch, and you're talking with her about the banana peel you put on Mom's front door (now gone) and the pansy you put there, as well (still there) and how Mom's contemplating putting an artificial pansy there instead. You and little sister are very skeptical of this plan. Then you notice a very large, glossy, black caterpillar on said pansy. It has round articulated sections, like you'd draw a caterpillar. You say to little sister, "Look at that caterpillar! It's very caterpillary." She agrees. Then said caterpillar gets attached to the knuckles of the index and middle fingers of your left hand and it feels like they're on fire, so you scream and scream but you can't scream, so you wake up, and you're back in your parents' house, but it's like your real house, except your parents' room is across the hall, and you wake them up with your screaming, but they don't seem concerned. Then you REALLY wake up, and you're all phlegmy. Then you go to work.

what pumpkin is this?

This morning while Anne and I were running around a fog-shrouded Green Lake in the dark, what ho! We spied a large, brightly lit jack o lantern sitting on a trash can at the side of the path. It was large and contained a manger scene (figurines of Jesus in the manger, Mary and Joseph.) The opening in the front of the pumpkin was cut in a basic house shape with a fence-type thing halfway across. So it looked like a little lean-to on a farm, the way the scene is often pictured. It was so cool! Thanks to whomever blessed our morning with some unexpected holiday craft and beauty!

Happy Holidays, each and every one!

important developments

Friday morning SHORTLY after posting here, I received an email from my friend C. at company M.:

****
Subj: Luck of the wrong number...H. has...

M. just called me on accident since he was trying to get D. to announce that H. has had her baby!!

Labor started at 1 am and A. arrived safely at 10:42 am.
******

Huzzah! SHe was going to be induced Saturday, so A. just waited until the last moment and out she popped! I left work early Friday to go visit with mom, dad, and baby. All are doing very well. H. was full of energy! Baby is so cute. I mean, cute is sort of the understatement of the year. There's nothing quite like holding a brand new baby. The lovely weight...like a little sack of flour in your arms. I never tire of wondering at tiny fingers, chubby little cheeks, wee little pout of a mouth in a sleeping face. Look at me; I'm getting all veklempt. And I'm not the only one. Upon sending photos to my parents, I received this reply from my mom:

****
HIya! I was wondering if you would get prints for me of you holding A. looking at the camera and you holding A. looking down at her, what a beatific smile on YOUR face then! Dad and I just loved it, it melted us! He said you looked ten again!
Happy Christmas, dear girl! ! MOm
***

Then off for an invigorating run in the dark at Green Lake with Sussespeck. We decided to stop off at Whole Foods for a treat after. "Dear Susse," says I, "We just went for a run and we are hungry. We should be sure we don't just impulse-buy whatever looks good." So we bought: preformed cookie dough balls, ice cream, a pineapple, beer, a Spanish cheese resembling a trebuchon, cheese crackers, bread, spaghetti sauce, mac'n'cheese, and soda. Very conservative, really.

Then we had leftover croquettes and jicama/cucumber/chile/lime, and proceeded to CHristmas cards and (for me) Christmas gift wrapping.

Saturday found Mr. Marmot and I on our way to Wenatchee on a beautiful clear morning. Finished writing all the Christmas cards I had with me. 67 completed, 23 to go. Must make calculations and rewrite spreadsheet for next year...

Arrived in the 'Snatch and off we girls went to Maurices. Semi-teeny bopper chain only found in small towns (in Washington, anyway.) Bought two tops (buy one, get one half off!), a belt, a pair of earrings, and a blue flower pin. (Broach? Brooch? Pin sounds so tiny and this is a weighty thing.)

Then off to pick up Auntie M. and up to Leavenworth. Looked in some shops, bought hot chocolate and listened to the carols, and the hourly "OYE! OYE! OYE!" of the town cryer. They let small children from the crowd come up and sing carols unaccompanied. Highlarious, as you might expect, what with the malapropisms in the lyrics. At 4:30, after much waiting and the purchase of a fleece to go under Mr. Marmot's shell (he was getting cold) they LIT all the Christmas lights, first in the trees, then on the faux-Bavarian chalet buildings. Say what you will about the faux-Bavarianness, and I will on occasion, hundreds of Christmas lights really DO IT. For me. Will try to post a photo here forthwith.

That night, we proceeded to Wenatchee's primary pasttime in the winter months: consumption of large amounts of domestic light beer. I was "on fire," according to Mr. Marmot. After warming up at Scott's, we went to Joe's Log Cabin, the site of one of the alleged racist incidents being noised about in the press lately, where we had no competition for the pool table nor the juke box. At one point I started protesting my exclusion from the pool and reminding the group (mostly men) about the passage of Title Nine. Then on to the Roaster. It hit me, as I stood at the bar waiting for my Bud Light, that a small town is very convenient. Most of the people who were out in Wenatchee that night were at the Roaster. So you were likely to run into people. Of course, this could be problematic if you did *not* want to run into one. But that stuff is a matter of fate and/or karma, because in a city the size of Seattle, one runs into the wrong people with some regularity. If you know what I mean.

(NOTE: Sorry about all the initials up there but you can't be too careful, and besides it makes me feel like a spy. Cha cha.)

Christmas is the season of miracles

I reminded someone of that the other day, in my corniest tones, and cracked myself up. Hysterically. I pack my own entertainment.

I was so happy lastnight. Leaving work, I had my shopping list with me and headed to the store, then home to make Spicy Potato Quinoa Croquettes and Jicama Cucumber Salad with Chile and Lime. I am really getting to enjoy cooking, hence my gleeful anticipation. MSH liked the croquettes, and upon seeing their patty-like nature, decided he didn't need a pork chop! This is a big deal, folks. We could be onto something here--if something *looks* like a meat dish, he could be satisfied with a meat-free meal. It helps that the croquettes are tasty and very hearty. MSH wasn't a big fan of the salad, although I found it DELISH. THe best part is there's leftovers for tonight! If you're interested in the recipes, they may be found in _Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone_ by Deborah Madison. These are the first two recipes I've tried from that book.

Lastnight's O.C. was a FAHRIGGING masterpiece. I see now that the clever writers were just sandbagging with last week's blah episode so they could catch us unawares with the most dramatic, touching (YES!) show ever. I laughed, I cried. All that was lacking was someone there to share the joy with me as I folded towels.

eck.

Have just realized boss chews on the end of his pens. Must make a mental note never to retrieve a pen from his desk. (Some of my pens end up here and some are just taken out of my pencil holder as I'm in a high-traffic area. To combat this, I have put one pen in a clear strapping tape pocket on the side of my monitor, labeled: "DO NOT BORROW THIS PEN.") (So far it has been effective.)

please pass me the spirit stick

I'm running low on the holiday spirit today, kids. Possibly a hangover from (choose one or all): too much rich food at holiday parties, truffle sampling during the process yesterday, two Coors Lights imbibed lastnight while watching "The Last Samurai," or my PMS-induced digital camera anxiety attack. (The only real physical problem was the power cord. It was congenitally disordered, and has been replaced free of charge by Tall's Camera. MSH interacted with the good people there, as I was in no state.) AS FOR THE MENTAL PROBLEMS, ALL MINE: Basically, I love my three-week-old digital camera, but the fall de rall of getting the fucking pictures OFF the camera and ONTO Mike's computer (note: not my computer because it doesn't have a "CD" "burner") and then ONTO a website so people can peep them. Well. I love the idea of sharing photos and instant gratification and blah blah blah shit shit shit but in actuality, I'm experiencing a bit of a transitional period to this new medium. I haven't backed up any of the photos yet, so I'm anxious that they will just disappear into nothingness. The photos don't exist in the traditional sense of the word. (In the Buddhist sense, no photos inherently exist, but let's take it one step at a time.) I've taken maybe sixty photos I'd consider keeping and none of them are on paper yet. (We don't have a printer and no, I don't want one.) Since I like to scrapbook, this presents a problem. I know it's just an adjustment period and a mental block, but sitting down to the computer, organizing them into folders, uploading to Snapfish; all this seems time-consuming...and finding time to do this during a time period when MSH doesn't need to use his computer... Of course, I feel like a Total Asshat because it's a REALLY NICE CAMERA and was purchased for me by MSH as an early Christmas gift--a really nice gift and by doing all this complaining, which I have done right to his face in full freakout asshat mode, I am looking the Really NIce Gift Horse right in the mouth and complaining about his halitosis. I thought I really wanted one, and I still do, but as you may know, I have a very low tolerance for anything less than TOTAL MASTERY AND CONTROL, ESPECIALLY as concerns photos. I'm very into my photos. So I'm not putting my film camera in the trash just yet. Please send me tips and tricks and valium if you have them. I'd really like to stop being a digital asshat as soon as possible.

Every email that pops into my inbox from a coworker pisses me off. No, I don't want to fuck around with QuickBooks to get the vacation balance to show up there. How hard is it to fucking email me if you want to know what it is? Or, oh my god, TRACK IT YOURSELF?! No, every company does not print your vacation balance on every paystub. No I don't want to track vacation based on anniversary date; HR director is not my only job and we let you take a week's vacation after working here for two and a half weeks! Quit asking me cryptic questions and tell me when you want to take a vacation--there are only fourteen work days left in 2004 and you have four vacation days left so what is the criping problem?! I understand that I am being a total bitch here.

The truffles turned out well, despite the fact that the center mixture was too soft. Probably a combination of the fact that I did a double batch and didn't let it chill long enough. SCratch that upon second thought I KNOW it didn't chill sufficiently before being apportioned out into balls because 2-3 hours of chilling was the estimate for a single batch. The magical candy shell still formed, though, and they taste great, so I guess I DIDN'T screw up, I just made EXTRA-SOFT truffles. Huzzah!

Tonight I must be wrapping gifts and tracking down addresses for Christmas cards. I wish I had dumped my wedding guest address list into my PDA before Mike's computer crashed last time. Some of those addresses would have come in handy. I might as well throw my paper address book out; I never update it. I looked in it lastnight and couldn't even REMEMBER one person having lived at that address...

And one more complaint, and then I hope the pity party will come to a close. SOmeone in my office (which is very, very, cozy and no cubicle walls) is farting, funky and fresh, this morning. I realize this is probably karma ALTHOUGH I do not fart in public areas of this office! It is some very ripe karma. I made a dharma joke.

UPDATE: Have concluded farty karma is INSTANT karma caused by self's b.o.

another week, another o.c. redux

Like. We couldn't. See. That plot twist. Coming.

Not for nothing do they put TWO redheads in an episode, people! Duh!

I found myself much more sympathetic to Lindsay this episode. Not only did they not put her in that egregious hair-do, but they really softened her look, and I think she stopped flaring her nostrils. A bit too much makeup, though.

All in all, somehow a pretty hokey episode--not up to snuff, writing-wise. But Summer looked so gorgeous at the winter dance it almost made up for it. Her dress was stunning, and her HAIR. Omigod. It was 1930's perfection.

If my high school years had been a TV show, the hair people would have gotten very bored with me. Pretty much the same every day: no blow dry, get irritated with hair in third period, put up in a bun secured with a pencil. (Yes, one pencil! That's how thin my hair was then! These days a whole BOX of Ticonderogas No.2's wouldn't keep anything up for longer than a minute.) Wardrobe for the gang, as we were in the time o' the grunge, also would have been a bit tedious. Levi's, Converse All-Star hightops, rock T's, long necklace, and the PLAID FLANNEL SHIRT, baby! Look at me, I'm waxing all nostalgic.

I'm forever watching animated icons...

So I'm doing all this invoicing because we have a lot of accounts that expire in January and February. Last year when I did this, there were four steps each time: determine proper fees, number of users, and recipient for invoice. Create invoice in Word. Create invoice in QuickBooks. Put line item in Excel. (Then, Repeat 137 times.) (Auxiliary steps: Take valium. Bang head against wall.)

This year, with the NEW IMPROVED version of QuickBooks, I just do the heavy mental lifting, create the invoice in QuickBooks, EMAIL IT DIRECTLY FROM QUICKBOOKS, and proceed. (I'm going to do all my spreadsheeting at the end.) So it's going a lot faster. Rejoicing! I often find myself waiting for the invoice to be emailed, and for my entertainment, QB provides an animation of a little CPU and monitor (that's me) with a cord and spooky green bubbles in three sizes boobling across this cord toward a GREAT BIG CPU. (This symbolizes QuickBooks, I guess, or maybe just The Internet. Yes I'm a scientist.) So I don't know how long it took to program this animation, but you know. Is it more entertaining than a blank pop-up, or just a beige bar filling with little colored bars denoting progress? Yes. Do I appreciate this utterly meaningless little animation in my day? Yes.

My friend's due date for her second child is today. But the baby shows no signs of wanting to emerge. (Probably heard about Bush getting reelect--oh dear. Did I say that out loud? Down, bitter liberal!) So because she's going to be fabulously intelligent as well as adorable and charming, and there's no point in delaying a meeting with such a person, I want all of us to focus our magical thinking* on the baby being born soon. And if you need a particular date to focus on, make it this Sunday December 12, because the mother said she'd like that day.

*For more information on "magical thinking," see the essay "Magical Thinking" in the book of the same name by Augusten Burroughs, copyright 2004. (And while you're there, read the other bits because they will make you laugh.)

A Paean to the Old 97s' "Designs On You"

I am sitting here invoicing and listening to the Old 97s album "Satellite Rides." These guys are amazing. And "Designs On You" is the most amazing song.

It starts out well-behaved and regular-sounding. You don't know where it's going to take you. It crescendos. It opens up. It has big guitars. It's sweet. It's deceptive. It yearns. It gets to that pleading, needing part of romance. The veiled motive. The pretending innocence. It makes me want to dance. It makes me want to love. It makes me want to sing. It makes me want to screw. It makes me want to quit my job, learn guitar, and find a gang of troubadours with whom to tour North America in a camper van. It makes me feel free. All of a sudden, these invoices ROCK!!!

Find this song, folks. Buy it, download, rip it, burn it, shred it, do whatever you kids are doing these days. But get it, and listen to it, and then turn it up, and listen to it again. Because it is fucking rad.

Observations Upon Watching "The O.C."

1. I loathe the way Lindsay had her hair done for the rock show.
2. When Marissa heads for the bathroom and ogles Ryan while she pretends to groove to the music for a minute, I nearly retched. (because of the bad dancing. Producers of "O.C.": NO MORE MARISSA DANCING!!!
3. The bit about Cal keeping stuff from Sandy (his lawyer) is utterly ridiculous. When you are a naughty man doing naughty things, you tell your lawyer every single naughty thing so he can defend you properly. Everyone knows this, ESPECIALLY THE NAUGHTY MEN!! To manufacture the plot otherwise is to insult the intelligence of the audience, which has seen a lot of cop shows, in my case, some Law & Order, some NYPD Blue, lots of Perry Masons and MOST of the Matlock episodes ever aired.
4. Summer has little hands. Little hands are irresistibly cute. They're not just for carnies anymore.
EDITED:
5. Note the four main characters (Summer, Marissa, Seth, Ryan) that they montage in romantic bliss at the end-- the girls and their dates are sitting in silence, cuddling; the guys are talking/smiling/laughing with theirs. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!? I would hypothesize that it means their relationships are more intellectually or personality-clicking based, and hence will last longer. Especially in the case of Marissa, that hottie "yard guy" is just a warm bod! I can't stand Zach, either, and those six newspapers he reads. "Only the NY Times, the LA Times, the Washington Post, and the Wall Street journal." ONLY?! Oh that doesn't sound like false modesty. A) you are blatantly trying to impress Summer and hence get laid and B) nobody in high school has the time to read all those fucking papers in the morning before they go to school. (note: this concerns a previous episode, not lastnight's.)

bleh!

So, I'm 27. Do you think I should get my crap together? Maybe? Or at least think about it?

I woke up this morning at 7:42, by the count of MSH's alarm clock, which is actually 7 or 10 minutes fast. I never remember this when I get up, though, which is why it works so well. I immediately started yelling "Oh no! Oh my god!" and freaking out. I had not set an alarm. I had not woken up when MSH got out bed. I had not woken up when MSH turned on the shower. I hadn't even woken up when he turned on THE LIGHT. I don't know why I finally woke up. See, I was supposed to pick up Sussespeck and Mr. Sussespeck AT 7:45 and even by my most optimistic standards, I was going to fail. I hate failing, and I hate being late DESPITE THE FACT THAT I AM FREQUENTLY LATE!!! I was in the car at 7:47, according to the car clock. Any way you clock it, it was the shortest ever amount of time from consciousness to car, for me.

They made their flight and all, and even brought me hot chocolate, which I DID not deserve, but for crying out little babies. I'm 27.

In other news, this was forwarded to me today:

******
Well, you four are the only ones who I keep in contact with from high
school, and since XXX lives in Thailand, and XXX and I live
out-of-state, I am just requesting that if any of you hear about the 95
reunion to let me know.

I called Aloha High School today (503) XXX-XXXX, and I was given the
following information for Aloha High Reinions:

Classic Reunions
1-800-474-3669
www.classic-reunions.com

I didn't see anything for class of 1995, so maybe no one is going to
organize it for us because our class is a bunch of losers!! HA! Let me
know
if you hear anything new, and I'll do the same...Thanks, guys!!!

Name Withheld
******

I do not keep in touch with the author personally, but apparently she's interested in taking charge and organizing something besides a canned reunion that will, it is rumored, take place at Kells, a pub chain which I have nothing against personally but which activated my snob gland because it's...the same as everyone else's reunion. Do I really care enough to get involved with planning the reunion? And more importantly, would doing so interfere with my boozing and goofing off? And would I have to start using my old last name with my former schoolmates?

Traditionally, the senior class president is in charge of these things, but due to a dark horse candidate type of scenario, a pretty weird dude was elected our class president. A dude who didn't brush his teeth on a regular basis, and a few years after we graduated kind of dropped off the face of the earth. And by that I mean, his parents were calling old acquaintances to ask if they'd heard from him, and as I understand it, they also hired a private investigator. The alternative would be the class VICE-PRESIDENT, who made declarations about planning our reunions. Of course, at the time, my reaction to this was: "Like I give two sh*ts?" but I was an embittered youth in Pearl Jam T-shirt and worn flannel. Now I am an embittered 27-year old in a purple "Kiss My Sash" pirate beauty pageant T-shirt and no socks. (I told you I was in a hurry this morning!)

Yesterday at lunch I went to the bank, went to the tree lot, purchased a tree and a wreath, drove home, hung up the wreath, erected the tree in the tree stand, and gave it a big drink o' water. Also I scheduled some maintenance for the Coroller. Yesterday, I was efficient. Today I'm not wearing socks and I still haven't edited the weekly news although it's noon. THIS COULD BE DUE IN PART TO THE FACT THAT I'M BLOGGING INSTEAD. Also I'm hungry....

top of the

Late night lastnight. Making this morning one of those mornings where you stumble out of bed, pull your T-shirt up to your neck, put on a bra and deodorant, and pull the T-shirt back down. It's officially CHristmas! I will make you hate me by telling you I wrote two Christmas cards lastnight. If you're into that kind of thing.

I wish I could get to work and a) make it to my desk without people asking me to do shit for them--even two minutes, people, would make a difference for me! and b) NOT have to read: "Get your d*** Rock Hard in Less than 60 Seconds!" in 20-point bold font. I delete reams of this stuff at a time, but every ten messages you have to look at one. If alien life is studying our email, they'd get: penis growth, erectile aids, sedatives, mortgages, work from home, emigrate to USA, take care of my African millions (serious offer!), not to mention "horseplay adoption dissertation." Crikey.

So I loaded the software onto MSH's 'puter lastnight and uploaded some photos from my new digicam. (Did this on my dad's computer over Thanksgiving, too.) I guess I'll grow more comfortable with the process, but despite all the coolness of the camera, I yearned a bit for the elegant simplicity of film. I took a RAD picture of these little pinecone candles burning, though--it would have come out like crap on my point and shoot film cam.

Christmas is coming, the tofurky's getting fat,
Please to put a penny in an old man's hat.
If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do;
If you haven't got a ha'penny, then GOD BLESS YOU!

The Muppets Christmas with John Denver is the BEST EVAR!!!!